


not a lack of creativity, but rather a lack of time to think of an appropriate comeback

by theboilingrock



Series: “It’s the lack of creativity for me” verse [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Meet-Cute, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, but it’s just the stuff from canon, does this count as crack?, idiots to lovers, these two are so stupid i can’t even, zukka being idiots vol 2! now in zuko’s pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28396161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theboilingrock/pseuds/theboilingrock
Summary: And so the rest of Zuko’s bad luck from there was less to do with such emotional tragedies, and more to do with personal pride. For example, the situation with soulmates.Now, when Zuko first got his words, he assumed that his soulmate was probably some sort of bee fanatic. That was what anyone else would have assumed before the fateful day of the 14th of December, 2007.But then came the references. Oh the many references, and jokes. Zuko swore to himself that the next time someone asked him if he liked jazz, he would punch them in the face.OR:Everyone gets their soulmarks when they’re thirteen. When Zuko wakes up on his thirteenth birthday to a soulmark that almost completely covers his arm, he isn’t sure what to expect.(Zuko’s take on “It’s the lack of creativity for me”. Can be read as a stand-alone, but reading the two together completes the experience!)
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: “It’s the lack of creativity for me” verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079633
Comments: 19
Kudos: 613





	not a lack of creativity, but rather a lack of time to think of an appropriate comeback

**Author's Note:**

> part two to “It’s The Lack of Creativity for Me” but can be read as a standalone
> 
> please note: a version of zuko’s pov has already been written by @runwallacerun, this is just my take on it. go check it out!
> 
> enjoy!

Sometimes, Zuko dares to hope that his luck may be improving. 

Actually, no. That’s a lie. Zuko’s luck is—and always will be—terrible.

Where did it start, you ask? Well, Zuko’s life has quite literally been a flaming pile of bullshit since day one. The first thing to go wrong: being born the heir to the Sakai marketing empire, firstborn son to Ozai and Ursa. What are the odds, right? Born to the son of the owner of a multimillion corporation. No options apart from to eventually take over the company from his father, after said father takes the company over from his grandfather. No freedom, no breathing space. Nothing.

The majority of Zuko’s childhood was pretty shit, if he’s being honest. While his sister Azula was at least allowed to be friends with a few handpicked children, Zuko was completely isolated from his peers, surrounded by tutors and his family.

There were brief moments of breathing room from the suffocating routine, though. Going to the park with his mother and feeding the ducks, letters from his uncle, playing tag with Azula. Those memories were what Zuko defined as his childhood. Nothing about the awful isolation and harsh tutors were something that even came _close_ to what could be considered a life right for a child.

Zuko’s mother tried her best to keep Zuko out of the way of his father most of the time, but when she couldn’t—well. It wasn’t pretty. 

And that was how it went, for the primor years of Zuko’s life. Zuko’s mother couldn’t do much about his father’s treatment of him, as she was suffering as well, but there was a last straw, eventually. Flames, a punishment, a scar. Zuko didn’t remember much after that, but his mother called Uncle Iroh in a panic, who took the fastest plane to come get them. 

Uncle Iroh had been the heir to the company, but after Ozai cheated him out of his rightful place in the family, he had left with his son, but wrote occasionally. He hadn’t known what had been going on, but as soon as Ursa called him, he swept in and took Ursa, Zuko, and Azula with him to his house. 

After they had gotten back on their feet, and Ursa had bought a house for the three of them, Iroh went to his father, telling him of Ozai’s actions. Iroh reclaimed his place in the family, and when Azulon passed, he took the money from the company and started a tea shop, investing and saving the rest, some into funds for Zuko and Azula’s future.

You must be thinking that that’s where Zuko’s bad luck ends. Surely, after enduring a traumatic childhood and having a disfiguring scar on face, it can’t get worse than this? Unfortunately, dear reader, it can.

By the time Zuko had turned ten, his mother had developed cancer in her lungs. A blink, and she was gone too, leaving a grieving Zuko and Azula in Uncle Iroh’s care. 

A few years passed, and Zuko was _completely_ fine, thank you very much. He came out of the encounter relatively unscathed, save for the scar on his face, and a temper that he definitely had under control.

And so the rest of Zuko’s bad luck from there was less to do with such emotional tragedies, and more to do with personal pride. For example, the _situation_ with soulmates. 

Right. So. The deal is, when a person turns thirteen, they get words tattooed onto their wrist, the first words that their soulmate says to them. Red words for romantic, blue for platonic, some have lots, some have none, blah, blah, blah. The _point_ is, when Zuko turned thirteen, he got a red set of words. It was the strangest soulmark he had ever seen, reading:

_“According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because it doesn’t care what humans think is possible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow—“_

And then it stops, as if someone had interrupted the speaker. The words stretched from Zuko’s wrist up to almost the inside of his elbow, his forearm completely covered in writing. 

Now, when Zuko first got his words, he assumed that his soulmate was probably some sort of bee fanatic. That was what anyone else would have assumed before the fateful day of the 14th of December, 2007. 

Anyway. Zuko, being a stubborn thirteen year old with not so secret anger issues, immediately asked his uncle to book beekeeping lessons for him, as he was deeply insecure at this point in his life and hoped to find something that would allow him to relate to his soulmate. The lessons had gone fine at the start, but after a *ahem* _incident_ involving a _completely_ accidental slip of Zuko’s tongs which prematurely opened the hive before the rather snide boy who was at the same hive as him had put on his helmet—in which Zuko discovered that he, too, had not secured his helmet properly either—and a few bee stings, Zuko calmly decided that beekeeping was simply not for him. 

And yes, Zuko did endure the taunts from his sister about his soulmate being a bumbling idiot (“Get it, Zuzu? Because _bumble?”),_ and the sympathetic looks he always got from his uncle. 

But then. Oh, but then. December 14, 2007. Zuko didn’t actually see the movie, but people began to recognise the quote tattooed on his arm. The quote from a movie that would continue to haunt him forever. Because, yes, dear reader, Zuko’s soulmate had decided that the best way to greet one‘s future spouse was to quote the fucking _Bee Movie._

It probably wasn’t a good sign that even before meeting his soulmate, Zuko felt that he had had enough of him.

* * *

Uncle left Zuko in charge of the shop for the morning, rambling about some rare tea shipment that he needed to collect. It isn’t the first time that Zuko’s been left in charge, and so far, there hasn’t been any major incidents. _Yet,_ Uncle is always careful to remind him. 

Azula isn’t allowed to work in the tea shop yet—she’s too young—and besides, Zuko doubts that she would ever be allowed amongst Uncle’s precious tea sets. Zuko’s still amazed that Uncle allowed _Zuko_ around them, given his track record. 

It’s a quiet morning. The rush usually happens in the early morning and evenings on weekdays, and on weekends like today, around midday, when shoppers begin to grow weary. Uncle didn’t force Zuko to wear the ridiculous green apron that he always wears when he’s working, thank god, and Zuko pulls at his long sleeves, conscious of the red words tattooed on his arm hidden by the fabric. Working as a server, Zuko learned the hard way that too many people want to take photos with “The guy who has a meme as a soulmark”. And god forbid—Zuko might not be able to take encountering another person who asks him if he likes jazz. 

(He doesn’t, by the way. He doesn’t, and he never will, thanks to that god awful movie and his idiot of a soulmate.)

While Zuko thinks that over the years he’s gotten his temper under control, he’s sure he’ll snap if someone asks him that again. 

Anyway, back to the present. Only a few regulars drop by: a pair of grouchy old men playing Pai Sho at a table in the corner, an older woman with an impressively colourful headscarf, a man wearing blue robes. Zuko passes the time trying to fix a jammed coffee machine—yes, they are a tea shop. Yes, they also sell coffee. Don’t ask Zuko why. —and giving the two men playing Pai Sho cups of coffee with a steadily increasing number of espresso shots.

Ty Lee drops by after her yoga class for a bit, hanging on the side of the counter and talking Zuko’s ear off about a pretty girl she saw at the gym, but then she’s off again, to a ballet class on the other side of town. Zuko has no idea how she does it without passing out from exhaustion, but he mentally applauds her. 

Around noon, a loud group of teenagers come into the store, occupying a booth by the window. They seem to be waiting for someone, not ordering yet. Zuko goes about his business, taking out a wrench and attempting to unscrew the jammed machine. But it won’t budge. 

There’s a ring from the bell over the door, signalling a customer entering, and Zuko stops pulling at the wrench, which is now stuck to the machine by spilled coffee. He glances briefly at the person entering, catching sight of a denim jacket and an undercut, then sees an empty cup discarded on the counter. _Ty Lee._ He sighs, throwing it in the trash, then turns back to the coffee machine and the wrench again with a grim determination. _This ends. Now._

He pulls furiously at it for a few minutes to no avail, but then he feels the presence of another person behind him, and turns with his “customer service” expression, which freezes on his face when he sees the customer. 

_Oh, wow._

Smooth dark brown skin over high cheekbones and a defined jaw. An undercut which allows the dark hair to be pulled back into a ponytail at the back of the head—which only accentuates his sharp features more. The darkest brown eyes, like coffee beans, like 1% chocolate, like whatever stupid simile Zuko’s muddled brain can come up with. How could he have only momentarily glanced at _this?_ Full lips, strong eyebrows—Zuko’s practically swooning. And broad shoulders, arms that promise strong muscles beneath the thick denim—

Zuko’s been staring. For how long, he’s not sure. _Fuck, this is bad._

Yet, has the guy been staring too? He hasn’t moved apart from his lips parting, staring right back at Zuko, his gaze rooting him to the spot. 

Then the guy laughs nervously, and his eyes flick down to Zuko’s arms, where the sleeves of his sweater cover his soulmark. _Oh no, please don’t be a “Ya like jazz?” person. Please. Whatever godlike being that’s out there, I’m begging you._

Then he opens his mouth, and Zuko almost wishes he was a “Ya like jazz?” person instead. 

“According to all laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. It’s wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.” Zuko goes through the five stages of grief in one millisecond, cycling through so many emotions it almost gives him a headrush. One thought stands out among the rest, though. One word. _No._ “The bee of course, flies anyway because it doesn’t care what humans think is possible.” No, more than that, as Zuko watches the guy nervously spout the words, Zuko feels as if he’s about to burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, because _no way_ is this happening right now. In all the scenarios he imagined, Zuko never thought that his soulmate would just march up to him and quote the Bee Movie straight off the bat. This is all along with extreme irritation, of course. “Yellow, black. Yellow, black.” This has to stop. “Yellow—“ Zuko holds up a hand, and the guy’s voice cuts off, watching him in confusion.

Zuko lets out a long suffering sigh, and figures he might as well rip the bandaid off. He pulls up his sweater sleeve, and shows it to the guy.

As the guy leans forwards to read, Zuko wonders quickly what would be the witty, quick minded response for this situation. But as he sees the exact moment that the guy realises what’s just happened, as he sees the horror written all over the guy’s face, all he can come up with as a rebuttal is: 

“Hi.”

As the guy looks back at Zuko incredulously, Zuko thinks that even though he already knows his soulmate is a complete idiot, he knows that they’re going to have a lot of fun together.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @theboilingrock


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